On the Kinsey Scale, This Story is a Seven
by Choice
Summary: Kurt officially comes out to the glee club.


**On the Kinsey Scale, This Story is a Seven.

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I wrote this a) because I realized that Kurt never _officially_ came out to the glee club, and b) I just really wanted to put to use the hilarious idea of a Coming Out Cake. This went over well on LiveJournal, so... I hope you FanFiction-ers like it, too! (:

(Side Note: The Kinsey Scale is a measurement of sexuality, and it only goes up to six. And this story's a _seven._ Get it? It's _so gay _that-!  
Ugh, please ignore my horrible attempt at humor. :P)

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"I'm gay," He announced to everyone in glee.

Mr. Schue, in yet another attempt to bring the team closer together (which was more or less a losing battle since Babygate), had stopped the usual ignore-everyone-and-sing-the-loudest-fest that was commonplace. Instead, he'd told everyone at the door to come in and form a makeshift campfire circle in the front of the room so they could 'share and bond as a team.'

Whatever the hell that meant. Kurt was under the impression that Miss Pillsbury and her possibly mind-altering plethora of hardcore cleaning solutions were behind this idea, but he wasn't really complaining about it. If they could, Kurt was sure his ears would be shedding tears of relief for the reprieve from Rachel's gratingly (but, admittedly, amazing) singing.

Of course, that hadn't stopped her from blabbing on and on about what was currently troubling her… something about Finn or Quinn or both of them not giving her their complete and undivided attention when she was harassing them with pamphlets on relationship help and teen pregnancy. Or maybe it was about the heinous patterned sweater that Kurt had 'accidentally' spilled chili sauce all over. (Really, why else would he buy that ragu of festering, questionable meat from the lunch line? To _eat_ it?)

When his turn came, he _really_ wasn't feeling the whole Care Bear share-a-thon. All he wanted was some peace and quiet in which to properly groom his nail beds… Ever since Finn turned into a Jack Frost grade-A ass hat (complete with almost slamming a door in Kurt's face and _not_ apologizing for it), his cuticles had been the poor, innocent victims of his horrible childhood nail biting habits resurfaced.

He wasn't in the mood to strike up a pity party for himself over the loss of his newest Armani baby to Karofsky and his hairy-palmed goons or how his dad had cut his allowance in half (_half_) to cover his dry-cleaning bills. Not to mention the fact that Quinn was really beginning to tick him off with her constant bitching. She was pregnant, Kurt would give her the hormones card, but housing the likely disfigured fetus of the mohawked boy blunder was no excuse to become a pregasaurus. She'd _banned_ anyone in glee from owning anything in any sort of magenta hue, because "it makes the baby squirm and stab my uterus." _Please._

So he just came out with…

Well, he came out.

Everyone stared at him for a moment. Even Santana had stopped her customary quiet giggling and pinky-holding with Brittany to gape.

"Um…" Mercedes said, as if Kurt had a concussion and was preaching the merits of polyester slogan-shirts. "Baby, we _know_ this."

"And if we hadn't, those pants would have sold you out," Artie added helpfully from Tina's side. Kurt looked down at his Cambridge Madras chinos in confusion, before shrugging it off.

"Well, I know it's in everyone's personalities to _assume_," He shot them all a pointed glance. "But I never really came out. Not officially."

"Hummel, you spent that one week in club drooling over those muscle mags," Puck piped up. "No straight dude would eyeball a greased-up Roy Hilligenn."

Tina asked the question everyone was thinking. "And you knew Kurt had that issue _how?_"

Puck flushed and muttered something incomprehensible. An awkward moment passed before Brittany snatched the Talking Stick (one of Tinkle's drumsticks bedazzled with Rachel Berry stars) and said, "I asked for a blue waffle in iHop the other day, and the manager kicked me out."

After Kurt Googled 'blue waffle' on his iPhone at everyone's insistence and the Hat of Fate was almost passed around as a barf-bucket, Mr. Schue called it quits and let everyone leave a half-hour earlier. "We'll finish up with the rest of you that didn't get to go tomorrow!" He called to his green-faced students.

He spent the remainder of the night watching _Will and Grace_ on his laptop, but even Sean Hayes' hilariously flamboyant spaz attacks failed to completely erase his bad mood.

He was still commiserating with Mercedes about yesterday while they made their way to the cafeteria for lunch, but he managed to offer Margie his best smile as she served him up his usual garden salad with a mandarin orange cup. He frowned when she added a plate of something unfamiliar onto his tray. "Miss Margie, what _is_ this?" He asked as politely as possible. You didn't want to make enemies with the lunch ladies: who knew what they could do to your food while you were looking for exact change.

The graying woman offered him a wide, coffee- and cigarette-yellowed toothy grin. "Just a little surprise someone told me to give you today."

Kurt suspiciously eyed the mini… cake? "Just who was it?"

"Oh, he said not to tell," Margie said conversationally, passing an equally baffled Mercedes a plate of Sicilian pizza. "But he promised you'd find out later. In glee club," She winked.

He walked on clouds to the gleeks' lunch table, the butterflies in his stomach doubling when he realized Finn was absent. Of _course_ Finn would feel bad about almost ruining his beautiful, aristocratic nose's bone structure with the e. coli-infested door of the boys' bathroom!

Everyone got a kick out of it when Kurt cut the mini treat to reveal seven layers of rainbow-colored cake. "Aww, a Coming Out Cake!" Mercedes cooed before bursting out laughing. Artie snickered along with her.

Kurt frowned at the two of them as he passed Tina a small sliver of the cake. "Ha, you're crazy if you think you get a slice of this _now_."

(Tina took pity on her puppy-eyed boyfriend and gave Artie the red, orange, and yellow layers of her piece, and Mercedes only barely managed to get back in Kurt's good graces with the promise of the rest of her MAC Dazzleglass in Jingle Jangle.) (…What? With his budget cut from his father, he needed all the help he could get in staying fabulous while he saved up for something from D&G's promising summer 2010 collection.)

Kurt was a ball of nervous, excited energy for the next four periods before the end of school and, consequently, when glee club started. Mike had jokingly said Kurt was acting like Alfie, his Beagle puppy, which then had Brittany asking if she could be a lemur, and Mr. Schue was smart enough _not_ to ask what the hell was going on when he walked in to Brittany hopping around with Mike's black-and-white sweater tied to the back of her skirt as a makeshift tail.

Finn was already sitting when Kurt had come into club, and the jock had responded with a confused but more than half-hearted smile when Kurt offered him a breathy hello and a spastic little finger-wave.

Kurt caught Puck rolling his eyes, and retaliated by maturely sticking his tongue out before taking the empty seat next to Quinn in the circle.

"Matt, I'm pretty sure even _you_ know that isn't pink, but _magenta._ Right, Kurt?" She asked, turning away from the silently seething teen to look at Kurt for back-up. Kurt just sighed and put a hand to his temple; it was going to be a long hour and a half.

"Okay," Mr. Schue clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Who wants to start today's Share Circle?"

Kurt winced. Was this kindergarten or something? He tuned Santana out as the girl used the drumstick to enunciate her bitching over Rachel's latest musical demands, and while Mr. Schue was wary of the baton being used as a makeshift nightstick, no one stopped Santana as the Latina got up in the arguing Rachel's face with it.

"_O_kay," Mr. Schue said after a minute more of nonsensical banshee-trilling, snatching the drumstick from Santana's vice-like grip. "Next?"

Puck, surprisingly, was the next to have a go at spilling his heart out to the club. Kurt scoffed inwardly. If Puck were to have a heart, it would probably be filled with greasy bastard juice.

"I bake."

Everyone stared, and it was like a replay of yesterday, only now everyone _was_ really shocked. (Of course, Brittany only reacted by singing the chorus of _Stick to the Status Quo_.)

Kurt frowned when he realized Puck was looking at _him_ while everyone absorbed this little confession. "I can make all tons of shit from scratch, like bread and brownies and… um, cakes."

Tina quickly made the connection as well. "Oh my god, _you_ made Kurt his Coming Out Cake!" She squealed, only to blush furiously and cover her gaping mouth when everyone looked at her weirdly.

Puck sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, and-was he _blushing?_ Kurt blinked and waited for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of the baby grand, because this only happened in pranks. Kurt wondered if Puck was getting psychological with his bullying, but when he thought about it, when was the last time _Puck_ had been in on the dumpster diving?

"That is _so_ cute," Santana smirked as Brittany giggled and nodded her assent beside her. "Do you own chicken oven mitts, too?"

Brittany stopped her hyperactive hand-clapping to frown at the other Cheerio in confusion. "Why would you use chickens as oven mitts?"

"Shut up, Lopez," Puck snarked weakly. "Everyone knows _you_ don't go over Britt's after school every Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday to _practice Cheerio formations._"

Before Santana could respond, Brittany cheerfully said, "Nope! I let her use my Internet to play Robot Unicorn Attack until her mom has to pick her up."

Everyone forgot about Puck being a part of the Betty Crockers Anonymous in favor of hysterically laughing and teasing the red-faced, sputtering Santana. Well, everyone save Kurt, who was too busy contemplating Puck to pay attention.

What did this mean? Was it a peace offering? A new form of homo-harassment? He wasn't sure, and if he kept up this lip-biting pondering, he was sure to pay for it later when the Dazzleglass didn't go on evenly.

After another generally unproductive club meeting, everyone disbanded for the day with homework to bring in some song suggestions for their obligatory show tunes number in Regionals. (Kurt already knew his choice: "And All That Jazz" from _Chicago_. He would make the _perfect_ marionette-Roxie for "The Press Conference Rag", but it wasn't the ideal number for a group song.)

He shook his head with a fond smile as Finn, for once, walked out of club with a huge smile on his face, but Kurt felt no remorse for not being the cause of it. Hey, at least the boy was happy, right?

Kurt waited until everyone else filtered out of the room until it was just him, Puck, and an Epiphone guitar. The jock didn't look up at Kurt as he absently strummed out some chords. He sat in the seat beside Puck, primly crossing his feet.

""If I Were A Rich Man," Puck?" He asked. "I never took you for a _Fiddler_ fan."

"I blame my ma," Puck shrugged. He hummed for a line before pausing to turn to Kurt. "Was it good?" He asked.

He blinked. "Um… was _what_ good?"

"The cake." Puck shot him a devilish grin that had Kurt momentarily panicking over the thought that Puck might've tampered with the ingredients list a bit and substituted butter cream frosting for-. Kurt inwardly gagged, and Puck frowned. "Dude, was it bad or something?" He asked in concern. "I tried out this different recipe I got off this one blog I follow, and I figured it would be worth a shot since her torte was _phenomenal_-"

Kurt found himself grinning despite himself, because this unusually self-consciousness coming from Mr. Badass (who bakes-who knew?) was… well, strangely adorable. He had the unbelievable urge to pinch Puck's cheek.

"Calm down," He said in a giggle. "It was fine. Amazing, even. You know…" He smiled sort of nervously at Puck. "No one's ever… um, baked me anything before. It was kind of… sweet."

"Just because I like to bake doesn't mean I'm gay," Puck blurted with a scowl, his face a brilliant red.

"I never said you were." Kurt said, partially confused (he never insinuated, did he?) but mostly amused, because the sight of Puck was too cute to _not_ smile and coo over.

"Well…" Puck floundered. "Well. I'm not. Gay."

"Alright," Kurt said patronizingly, getting up from his seat. He readjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder, still smiling faintly as he gazed down at Puck. "Thank you for the cake, Puck, it was still really sweet of you." He hesitated for a brief second as he weighed Puck's reaction before bending down to peck the other boy on his cheek.

Kurt chuckled when all Puck could say was something jumbled and stammered out a pathetic example of a "You're welcome."

The next morning on his way to homeroom, he was shoved into a row of lockers, but not roughly enough to make him drop his books or have a lock dig into his vertebrae. What was weirder, something was shoved on top of his chemistry textbook. He tried to see who had pushed him, but his assailant had escaped too quickly.

Kurt shrugged and popped open the unfamiliar Tupperware, grinning when a chocolaty smell assailed his senses. He almost spat out a mouthful of amazing double-fudge chunk cookie laughing when he read the accompanying Post-It note buried among the treats: _Still not gay… but wanna see clash of the titans w/ me tonight? it's got buff sweaty dudes (; - Puck_


End file.
